next!

_Mr. C.-J._ (_sadly, to himself, as he descends_). I'd no idea
canvassing was such exhausting work. I--I really think I've done
enough for one afternoon! [_Leaves Little Anna Maria Street--for
ever!_

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[Illustration: "Bear with us!"]

"BEAR WITH US."--In the case reported in the papers last week of "an
infuriated bear shot at Croydon," Inspector ORMONDE said that "when
the ring had been removed from its lip, the animal was so much
relieved that it immediately turned a somersault." A picture of this
interesting incident should be at once painted and hung up in the
Divorce Court. The husband, who has become quite a bear in consequence
of his better half having rendered herself quite unbearable, would
naturally turn head-over-heels with joy on getting quit of the ring.
But alas! mark the end of the poor bear. He got more and more excited;
he had to be looked up in a stable. Here the joy and novelty of the
situation overcame him; his mighty brain gave way; he became mad as
a hatter--(_Alice in Wonderland_ might have asked, "Then why didn't
they send for a hatter, who would have brought a chimney-pot, or some
sort of a tile for his bear-head?")--and subsequently the veterinary
Mr. THRALE (whose ancestral namesake had considerable experience
in dealing with that learned bear. Dr. JOHNSON) procured a gun, and
potted the bear. Awkward in his life, but grease-ful in his death.

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